Navigating the
Bureaucratic Maze Leading
to the National Identity Card
Srianee Dias
I received this email from
Srianee, and after reading it, I had no hesitation in posting it. I hope readers
enjoy it and find it as amusing and entertaining l as I did.
Hi Mahen, I wrote this for its entertainment value, but some
people may find it helpful. Your choice
to publish and there is no rush at all. Warm greetings (literally!), Srianee
Now that I have decided to move back to Sri Lanka in the not-too-distant future, I have a checklist to get through. One of the most challenging items on the list
was obtaining a National Identity Card.
This system was not in existence when I left in 1970 and I had not felt
the need to get a National ID Card
during my short visits in the past. I realised that staying here permanently would be different, so I decided to tackle the task head-on, in spite of the horror stories I had been hearing about bribery, unwieldy crowds and who knows what else?
The adventure began with a visit to the Grama Niladhari
responsible for our area (Kurunduwatte).
My brother Gihan kindly offered to accompany me to the GN’s
office. It was a decrepit, poorly
maintained building located on Gothamipura Road, on the edge of the manicured
links of the Colombo Golf Club. The GN
had limited office hours, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. At the entrance to the building, there was a
deep culvert bridged by a rather unstable concrete slab. As we stepped over it and entered the waiting
area that Tuesday morning, we were relieved to see just two other people
waiting. The GN was a fortyish friendly
man who was sitting behind a cluttered desk. He immediately recognized Gihan because of previous, obviously favourable encounters. He gave no
indication that he was waiting for a ‘bribe,’ and I wasn’t planning to offer
one anyway! He listened to my situation
(first time NIC, Dual Citizen) and gave me a list of documents that I needed to
gather before proceeding. He also
rummaged through his files and handed me a bunch of forms, that he suggested I
fill out. (Some of them had nothing to
do with my objectives).
The documents I needed included a duplicate of my Dual Citizenship certificate because I only had a photocopy of my original certificate in my possession. (The
original was safely stored with my other important documents in Connecticut.).
Since my present surname is not the one on my birth certificate, I had to
obtain a copy of my marriage certificate.
I forged ahead on my own this time, paying visits to two separate
offices for these documents: the Divisional Secretariat and the Immigration/
Passport offices in Battaramulla. I was
pleased to obtain them with relative ease because everything is digitized
now. Luckily, I remembered the year and
month of my marriage! There were fees to
pay, of course, but the people at the various counters (and there were many )
were very pleasant and helpful. In addition, the GN had asked me to photocopy various pages of my old expired Sri Lankan passport and specific pages of my current US passport. I couldn’t understand the need
for these, but I obediently followed the directions as instructed.
Once all these documents were collected I returned to the
GN’s office accompanied by my brother.
There were a few more people in the waiting area this time. We struck up a conversation with an older man
who appeared to be an assistant to the GN.
He asked If I had a copy of the digital photo. “What photo?”
I asked because the GN had not said anything about a photo. The conversation drew in others who were
waiting and Gihan got directions from a young man to a studio licensed by the
NIC authorities. Off we went out into
the blazing sunshine again. We drove to
an area that was quite unfamiliar to me and Gihan double parked in an alley because parking spaces were
non-existent on the street. He stayed in the car with the AC on, and I headed out along the pavement, looking for a studio that could take this official photo for me. I passed a couple of photo studios and found the right one after a few
inquiries. I went up a steep staircase
to a small studio where a helpful young man obligingly took the photo according
to the required specifications. The
photo was digitally transmitted to the NIC authorities and a copy was handed to
me.
We drove back to the GN’s office, where he made sure that
every form was properly filled out and then inserted them into a large brown
envelope which I had brought along.
After folding and stapling the envelope, he stamped it with his very
important rubber stamp. He then
instructed me to take the completed application to the Divisional Secretariat
Office (Thimbirigasyaya District) on Elvitigala Mawatha.
After all this, I needed a few days to recover before moving
on to the next step.
The receptionist at the Divisional Secretariat Office
instructed me to go to the second floor and hand in the application. The lifts were jammed, so I took the stairs
and found the appropriate counter to hand in the brown envelope. The young woman there opened the envelope and
checked the forms for accuracy. She
corrected the incorrect Sinhala spelling of my name on one of the forms. (I had followed my brother’s guidance in
writing out my name in Sinhala earlier!!). She folded the envelope again, stapled and stamped it with her own rubber stamp, and then placed the all-important brown envelope in a log book/register, which I had to sign. She
instructed me to take the register to the third floor, get the Grama Niladhari
there to counter-sign the register, and then bring it back to her. I trudged up the stairs again, thinking that perhaps the higher the floor, the more important the bureaucrat. By this time I felt that I was a
character in Shehan Karunatilleke’s ‘Seven Moons of Maali Almeida’ floating from
counter to counter in the afterlife!
On the third floor I found my way to the correct office
without difficulty. I walked into a
waiting area, surrounded by several offices, which was much nicer than the one
in Kurunduwatte! There was no sign of
the Grama Niladhari, although I could see through the glass walls of the waiting
area that there were a few female officers at their desks in some of the other
offices. A group of them were having a
leisurely tea break or early lunch break! I waited patiently in the waiting
area for about half an hour, although it seemed longer, and then decided that I needed to be assertive. I knocked on the door of one of the occupied
offices and inquired about the wherabouts of the GN. I explained that all I needed was for someone
to sign the register, so that I could be on my way. The female officer was sympathetic and found
another person who had the authority to sign the log book/register. (All the while I was thinking, how important
is all this?)
Back down the stairs I went, so that I could return the
register to the second floor so that some other person could repeat this
meaningless dance.
Armed with my triple-checked, sealed, stamped brown envelope,
I ventured back into the late morning sunshine.
I climbed into a tuk-tuk and headed to the Immigration and Emigration
Department in Battaramulla. There were
hordes of people waiting for new passports and various other documents. The Sri Lankan army personnel were handling crowd control, and everything seemed orderly, in spite of the large numbers of people milling around. I got directions
to the office handling NIC applications.
It was on the ninth floor, but thankfully the lifts were not
crowded! An army officer placed my
precious brown envelope in a folder marked 178 and directed me to a waiting
area. My heart sank when I saw about 200 people calmly waiting in their
seats. But had to keep going, so when I spotted an empty seat, I walked over and sat down. But
soon after I sat down, another army officer came over and asked me in Sinhala,
“How old are you?” Apparently, grey hair
has its advantages! He took me to the
front of the room, inquired about my mission, and directed me to the next place
I needed to get to. There were a few
more counters to visit, and a few more fees to be paid, but the next few steps
were easy.
I had requested ‘same-day service’ and could have waited several more hours (who knows how many?) to pick up my card that same day. However, I had found out from one of the friendly faces behind a counter that they would hold them until 12:00 noon the following day and then mail any remaining cards. I didn’t cherish the thought of hanging around any longer.
I returned the next
day, presented my receipt at the correct counter, and finally picked up the
National Identity Card! One more item
checked off my list!
